Without Purpose
by Raserei Hojo
Summary: He used to be overworked, filled to the brim with responsibilities.


He used to be overworked, filled to the brim with responsibilities.

It was true—he used to be so busy that there was hardly time for him to sit down and relax. He had things to do, places to go, people to meet. The day would fly by so fast that it seemed just a few hours ago, he had rolled out of bed and struggled with the alarm clock.

Most days began at roughly five o'clock in the morning. Tohma would get up, take a shower, get dressed and finish any lingering paperwork. Breakfast was, regretfully, optional. By seven o'clock, he would be at work and his wife would just be getting up for her own day.

He would talk to his employees and have a bit of fun making a few of them panic—like Sakano—and all the while he would be smiling brightly for the world to see. His practiced, charming smile. The same smile so many were in awe of and a handful were terrified of—_that_ smile.

Around eleven o'clock in the morning, Tohma would call Eiri—who would most often refuse to answer—and so he would then redirect his call to his wife. Mika would update him on Eiri's situation. Normally, the news was nothing to be worried about. When told Eiri wasn't eating, Tohma would make a note to drop by Eiri's apartment with a bag of sweets. When told Eiri wasn't sleeping, he would schedule Shuichi to rehearse all day, away from Eiri, so his brother-in-law could finish his work in peace and relax.

Lately, the news has been good.

_Eiri sounds so happy_, his wife would say_. I think I can hear him smiling_, his wife would say. That was definitely the news Tohma wanted to hear.

When noon rolled around, he would head to Studio 1 and rehearse with his band. Because of Ryuichi, their schedule was hectic. At times, they would perform some of their earlier works and at other times, they would create a new song on the spot. No matter what direction they took with their music, they were always productive. They were, after all, _Nittle Grasper_.

There were days when Ryuichi wouldn't show up at NG Productions at all. _I'm not in the mood to sing_, he would say over the phone when Tohma called him. Sometimes it was Noriko who called Ryuichi and she was far less pleasant with her words.

But Ryuichi would always counter with, _But there's nothing _scheduled. _There's no _competition_!_

As sad as it was to hear, Ryuichi's complaints were true. While Bad Luck was, undeniably, slowly climbing the charts, Nittle Grasper had nowhere to go. They were in the number one spot, reigning supreme. What else was there to do when a band is already at the top? Keep the spot or give it away.

Lately, rehearsals have been growing infrequent.

Tohma's afternoons were filled with paperwork and listening to demos, both from hopeful nobodies and from his own bands. More often than not, the demo tapes found themselves in the garbage bin. NG Productions had a limited number of spots and they weren't just available to anyone with huge, wibbly eyes.

There were days Tohma would eat lunch and days he would not. It depended on whether or not he had free time, whether or not he _remembered_ and whether or not it was approaching five o'clock in the afternoon.

Because at five o'clock in the afternoon, Tohma would stop everything he was doing. If he was in a meeting, he would politely excuse himself and head to his office. If someone was _in _his office, he would smile and ask them to leave.

And when he was alone at five o'clock in the afternoon, he would lock the door to his office, tell the girls at the front desk to refuse all calls directed to him—that he would get back to them later—and he would sit at his desk and quietly steeple his fingers in thought.

A quiet moment of remembrance.

It was around that time—albeit in New York and not Tokyo—that something precious and irreplaceable was stolen from Eiri.

It was a terrible burden to carry—both for Eiri and for himself. Eiri, who had been so pure and innocent, had been broken. His trust had been crushed and he had changed for the worst that day. After all, if you can't trust the very person who holds your heart in his hand, who _can _you trust? As for Tohma, the burden was great because he alone carried the guilt. He knew it was his fault for not being aware of the situation, and for that reason, he had become hyper-vigilant.

When his moment of remembrance was over, he would once again call Eiri. More often than not, Eiri would answer. He had figured out why Tohma called him in the late afternoon. He wasn't a stupid, naïve child as Tohma seemed to believe—at least that's what Eiri would tell everyone he was on speaking terms with.

Most days, that late afternoon conversation was short. Hello, how are you, talk to you later and that was that. There were times when that conversation was filled with silence and Eiri, irritated, would hang up. Yet still there were times when Eiri seemed to be in a better mood and he would sit with Tohma on the phone for nearly an hour in almost complete silence.

Lately, Tohma has stopped making those late afternoon phone calls.

In the evening, Tohma would finally leave for home. Every now and then he would stop at a florist shop and bring home a bouquet of roses for Mika—to make up for any special occasion he may have missed. He would always ask how Mika was doing and if she needed any help with her pregnancy. Mika would always roll her eyes at him, having grown used to taking care of the pregnancy mostly on her own.

He would eat dinner with Mika—usually takeout—or sometimes he would eat alone when Mika was still out shopping with friends. He would go through paperwork and take his evening bath afterward, then finally crawl into bed after setting his alarm.

But he wouldn't fall asleep right away. He would lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling, frowning since no one could see, and think. The more days that passed, the fewer things Tohma had to do, it seemed. Eiri was happy and it was Shuichi who was the cause of that, not him. Ryuichi longed to return to his solo career and spent less and less time rehearsing with Nittle Grasper. Mika was a strong woman, completely independent. The term _needy _didn't fit her at all. In other words, she didn't need him to do anything for her.

Eventually, a few short hours before his alarm would go off, he would fall asleep and the day would repeat again.

Lately, he didn't want the day to repeat again.

What Tohma wanted was to be useful to _someone_. What purpose did he have if the people he so desperately wanted to care for and be around were perfectly fine without him? How could he atone for his mistake in New York when Shuichi was more or less doing that for him? How could he make Eiri smile when he was _already _smiling?

Ryuichi didn't need him and Noriko was like him, married with a child—in Tohma's case, a child on the way. If Ryuichi really did go back to his solo career, Noriko would most certainly go back to her family and Tohma would be stuck being a producer for bands he could not, quite honestly, care less about.

Without Eiri—those two words always made his heart sink into his stomach—and without Nittle Grasper, he had no choice but to fully devote himself to his wife—who, unhelpfully, didn't _want _someone to be devoted that way to her. She didn't want Tohma to smother her the way he had smothered Eiri. She could do things on her own, pregnant or not.

He used to be overworked, filled to the brim with responsibilities, but lately, he had no purpose.

It was such a hassle to get up in the mornings. Some days, he didn't want to, but he pushed himself out of bed anyway. Because, he realized, even if Mika was capable of standing on her own two feet without his help, their child certainly would not be.

His child would need him and he would, without a doubt, take care of his son or daughter as a fully devoted father. That, more than anything else, was what got him out of bed most mornings.


End file.
